


A Calculated Descent

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, how hard could it be?, let's figure out this human thing, season 8 aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-17 11:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They made a life from scraps of coincidence and paper courtesy of the Winchesters, their little brother and maybe Dad himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They made a life from scraps of coincidence and paper courtesy of the Winchesters, their little brother and maybe Dad himself. Who knew? The irresponsible bastard might still be out there somewhere. Watching. Laughing maybe. But fuck him. 

Gabriel ,sewn back together by Kali and Anansi and Monkey at the exact worse moment, had no grace to lose. He could only watch his family fall and even through his tears, he had to admit the light show was beautiful. When the last firefly pounded into the earth, he looked to his dirty mortal feet. He stole a car. He could barely drive, more used to video game nightmares than the hard reality of merging. Shaken, he stood in a cemetery in motherfucking Kansas of all places. 

"Gabriel." Michael stared up at the darkened sky, sheathed not in a Winchester boy, but his first vessel, a tall proud man with hair as dark as the sky robbed of stars. "What fresh hell is this?" 

And how could Gabriel correct him? It was a kind of hell. To get Michael to his feet and drop him into the passenger seat. To drag Lucifer, unconscious and shoved not into Sam or Nick, but another first vessel, a young woman with gold hair and skin the color of the desert sand. She was limp in Gabriel’s weakened arms and it took him some time to lay her in the back seat. 

When he finally got back behind the wheel, he looked blankly out the windshield. Michael stirred and asked, dry mouthed,   
"What now?" 

It was the most frightening question anyone had ever put to him. 

Gabriel had followed the Winchester line as far back as it went. He knew well the shapes Lucifer and Michael had taken. They drove away from Kansas, these Mary and John doppelgangers. The first vessels millennium ago and now, most likely, the last.  
Gabriel drove north until his eyes grew too heavy. Michael was already asleep when he pulled over on the side of the road and Lucifer hadn’t yet woken. Gabriel stared at them both, these beloved, these monsters. His again. He slept. In the morning, his body made its complaints know about the accommodations. Michael rubbed at his neck with a winkle of disbelief in his nose. 

"This is unpleasant." 

"You're not going to like the next part any better." 

Gabriel discovered that pissing with a full bladder actually felt good. Michael mimicked him, eyes still half closed and fell back to sleep when they returned to the car. Gabriel turned his pockets out. He had not been left without resources. Kali and Anansi had tucked thick wads of cash into his pocket. Monkey, less versed in modern America, had given him a gold coin. Gabriel turned it over and over in his fingers. The lettering was Chinese, the dynasty old. Monkey wasn't modern but he was very smart. 

"We're going to Salt Lake City." He announced but no one heard. He stopped for food when his stomach grumbled. Michael roused long enough to eat a withered apple, one slow bite at a time. The flavor of it seemed to perplex him, but he ate it from stem to seeds. Gabriel remembered too late that the seeds were meant to be poisonous, but Michael seemed unharmed though he slipped back to sleep alarmingly fast. 

The car’s GPS barked directions at him and he followed them as if they were the Word of God. Of course, the Word had gotten them into this to begin with, so maybe that wasn’t the best idea. Whatever. He drove for hours, going through a drive thru for lunch. Burgers and fries cluttered up the bottom of the bag for his two passengers that went right on sleeping.   
They reached Salt Lake too late to do anything. Another night in the car, while not Gabriel’s first choice, seemed easier than trying to manhandle two unconscious people into a shady hotel room. 

“Gabriel?” Michael murmured in the middle of the night, startling him awake. 

“I’m here.” He rubbed a hand over his face, grimacing at the drop of drool at one corner of his lips. Indignity heaped on indignity.

“I can’t feel it.” Michael groped across the seat, found Gabriel’s hand and held it painfully tight. “I can’t feel any of it.” 

“I know.” Gabriel had been ignoring the vast gaping hole where all of creation should be. The sense of all things that they had been created with. He clung back. “I know.” 

Michael ate the cold hamburger when Gabriel offered it to him. In the back Lucifer’s breathing went on unchanged. There was an ashen look beneath her skin. For lack of anything else, Gabriel propped her up and dripped melted ice between her lips. To his surprise, she drank it. Chewing seemed beyond her, but she could live without food a little longer. 

“When she wakes-” Michael began, but did not finish. 

What was there to say? 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” 

Neither of them fell back asleep after that. They sat together in silence as the moon tumbled down and the sun creased the sky. Gabriel drove, picking his way through the waking streets and jamming the car into a bank parking lot. 

“Stay with her.” He told Michael, then froze. He’d never given Michael an order, not a serious one anyway. 

“Where else would I go?” Michael shrugged. 

Not reassuring. Gabriel left them both, clammy concern climbing over his skin. The antique shop wasn’t open yet, so he got a cup of coffee and a muffin from a bakery. Neither tasted quite right, too...something, but he drank and ate anyway. The caffeine rattled through him, shaking his bones. 

“I hadn’t expected to see you again.” Jeremiah, tall, broad and nearly obsidian, carried with him a librarian's quiet. “Heard tell they ended you.” 

“Hard to end a god.” Gabriel stood before the glass display case, jewels and coins in glittering piles. “How have you kept?” 

“Well enough. Better than you.” Jeremiah peered at him over tiny round glasses. “Why do you darken my door?” 

“Want to make a deal with you.” Gabriel pulled the coin from his pocket, displayed it in his open palm. “I need cash. A lot of it. So I’m willing to part with this one.” 

“Are you?” Jeremiah took up the coin in two long fingers. It was hard to see his true nature, but the scale markers were there around the nail beds. “Pretty thing.” 

“Isn’t it just?” 

“I’ll give you what it’s worth wholesale in cash.” 

“Which is?” 

Jeremiah named a figure. It wouldn’t keep them in the lifestyle Gabriel preferred, but nothing short of a miracle would do that. It was enough though. Enough to keep them at all. He accepted. The dragon counted out bills into an old leather satchel, precise as an accountant. The coin would go into Jeremiah’s hoard, a treasure unseen for a hundred years more. Monkey wasn’t modern, but he was very clever. 

The car was just where he left it. Michael stood outside of it now though, leaning against the door with his eyes cast heavenward and his fingers drumming restlessly against the metal. 

“I half thought you’d gone.” He said as Gabriel approached. 

“Where would I go?” He mimicked. “Actually. Shit. Where do we go?” 

“I-” Michael began, the surety draining out of him as soon as it had arrived. 

“Cold or hot.” Gabriel traced the strong line of Michael’s jaw with his eyes. 

“What?” 

“Weather.” 

“Either.” 

“Helpful.” Gabriel rubbed a hand over his face. 

“We should be near water.” Michael offered. “And mountains.” 

“Somewhere isolated.” He smiled grimly. “I know just the place.” 

They drove north. Lucifer soiled herself. To his surprise, Michael took charge. Washed her body with tenderness and re-clothed her in the best they could scrounge together at the truck stop. 

“She needs a hospital.” Gabriel stroked the hair back from her forehead. 

“No.” Michael sat back on his heels. “She stays with us.” 

They met each other’s eyes, but Gabriel looked away first. He always did. 

Alice Waters had been a naughty realtor once upon a time, selling ruinous properties to young couples. Gabriel had considered her for one of his lessons, but been distracted. It turned out, it really never was too late. 

“This one.” She slid the photos over, address across the bottom. “Three bedrooms, one and a half-bath. Fully furnished. It’s in decent shape.” 

“Good.” 

Without signing a lick of paperwork, they had a house by a lake, overshadowed by the Berkshire mountains. Michael wandered the generous boundaries of the property the first day, a knife in one hand and spray paint in the other. Gabriel probably only imagined that he could feel the protections leeching into the land. 

When Michael trudged back into the kitchen, tracking mud onto the cracked linoleum, he held out paint stained hands covered in nicks where he bled himself. 

“It hurts.” 

The childlike betrayal of it, twisted into Gabriel even as he ran cold water over Michael’s hands. An ancient first aid kit under the sink produced enough bandaids. 

“We need supplies.” He held Michael’s hands in his own, tried to drum up confidence from somewhere. “For us. For her. And we need to ditch the car. Get our own.” 

“Can we? Don’t we need...papers? Proof of who we are?” 

“Not to buy groceries. One thing at a time.” 

They drove into town, only a few miles north. It was small, a lazy main street that trickled down a state route with a few strip malls. The grocery store was really more of a jumped up convenience store. The sole cashier watched them with lazy interest as they moved up and down the aisles.

Gabriel chose the food, except for the bright yellow cluster of bananas. Michael set them down next to the boxes of cereal and quick frozen meals. 

“A woman gave me one once.” Michael walked just to Gabriel’s left, too close and not close enough all at once. “In Damascus. She thought I was a beggar. I ate it to be polite. But I remember the flavor as pleasant.” 

Gabriel tipped three boxes of macaroni and cheese into the cart. Easy things to start with. Anything that had directions on the side. He read them over carefully, bought a spatula, a wooden spoon and a pot while he was at it. 

The hygiene aisle stopped them both dead in their tracks. 

“Do we-” 

“Considering how everyone keeps eyeing us like we’re hobos, yeah. I’d say we need all of it.” Gabriel closed his eyes, then opened them again slowly. “Okay. Soap first.” 

He was proud that he remembered shaving cream to go with the razors. They were both getting stubble though on Michael it only had a rugged effect. Gabriel suspected his was more inline with hobo chic. First aid items went in too, every kind of band aid, pain killer and brace. 

“Starting a medical practice?” The cashier asked, eyebrow raised. 

“My sister is a bit of klutz.” He peeled bills off the roll. “Falls all the time.” 

“That isn’t funny.” Michael sniped. 

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” 

It wasn’t until they unpacked everything that it occurred to Gabriel that they had no dishes. Or utensils. 

“Fuck me.” 

Luckily the tiny hippie town was laden with kitchy shops that yielded up buttercup yellow dishes and retro orange bowls. Michael gravitated to a set of mugs, heavy clay and a dark rich blue. Gabriel bought them without thinking about it, adding them alongside the rooster dish cloths he found. 

When the world was young, Gabriel often picked up bits and pieces for Michael. Pretty sea glass, a leaf turned red in the autumn and a snowflake kept frozen on the end of his nose. Little marvels of their Father’s creation. Michael had studied them all, his light wrapped around Gabriel’s. Like two children sharing an armchair and a story. 

“I brought you a rose once.” He said before he properly thought out the rest of the statement. It’s been so long and Michael was so very different. Gabriel has no idea how to talk to him. 

“Yellow.” Michael tapped the plates with a fingernail. “It had a hundred petals.” 

They’d scattered each one over the earth, thinking they might grow into new plants. They hadn’t understood everything yet. Father’s world still a shiny new toy. 

Lucifer was still in bed when they got back. She hadn’t moved an inch. Gabriel stood over her, the supine form of a world ender. His killer. His sister. He kissed her forehead and drew the blankets up to her chin. They’d need to figure something out and soon, before she withered away to nothing. 

“She went quiet a thousand years ago.” Michael stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He looked impossibly tired. “Sam was gone. Adam...I do not know. I tried to keep him as best I could, but human souls aren’t made to last for so long. It was just us. We fought, but then...to what end? We could not die. We only had each other. We played games instead, told stories. Debated instead of argued. I understood, a little, in the end. Forgave too maybe. And still it went on..and on...and she just stopped. All at once. Stopped talking. Stopped singing crazy songs. Stopped playing games. Just...ceased to be.” 

“But not you.” 

“No.” Michael smiled wanely. “I wonder which one of us got the better end of that deal.” 

It stung, a little. Gabriel knew he was no one’s favorite. Still. Better to exist alongside him than not at all. Right?   
He used the microwave, reading the instructions with the kind of diligence he once researched his prey. The meatloaf was dry and the potatoes weirdly crispy on top, but Michael ate them without complaint. Gabriel decided that was a win. 

“My skin...” Michael ran his nails over his arm, raising soft pink tracks in their wake. 

The suggestion of the itch planted under Gabriel’s skin too. 

“We should shower.” He determined. 

“Oh.” Michael frowned down at his arms. 

“Come on. We’ll figure it out together.” Gabriel nudged him gently. 

Flesh had never embarrassed Gabriel. It was what it was, a costume for him to wear. Yet, stripping off the dirty clothes in front of Michael and the bathroom mirror gave him a chill. The mask had melted to his face. This was what he was now for better or for worse. A man who could pass for late thirties with hair too long and legs too short for the current style. The gold had fled his eyes, leaving them an ordinary hazel. 

Michael, of course, was beautiful. His vessels had always been perfect, tall and lean and young. They held all the vitality suited for a general or commodore. A man whose eyes saw beyond the horizon and onto the next fight. Though he didn’t look ready for a fight at the moment. He looked cautious as his fingers hooked under the edges of his shirt and drew it upwards. His skin visibly prickled. 

“First step, hot water.” Gabriel decided. The shower had a few knobs and it took a minute or two to sort out what did what. One of Michael’s bandaged hands slid by him to catch at the falling drops. “Too hot?” 

“I’m not sure.” Michael eyed the water, then stepped under it. His skin reddened and he hissed. “Too hot.” 

“Hold on.” Gabriel twisted the knob a little. “Better?” 

Michael didn’t answer, just gripped Gabriel by one arm and urged him underneath. The water fell over both of them, warm and soothing and perfect. He drew the shower curtain, enclosing them in the damp space. Soap proved less mysterious than the shower, lathering nicely as they passed the between each other and washed away the clinging miasma of the road. Michael dripped shampoo into Gabriel’s hair experimentally, building the foam up. The bandages caught at stray hairs, but the tiny snags paled in comparison with the sheer sensual delight of touch. Gabriel swayed forward into it. 

“You should rinse. And then repeat.” Michael intoned, drawing away too soon. 

“Why twice?” 

Michael gave him a baleful look which Gabriel interpreted as ‘how the fuck should I know?’. Then he ducked his head so Gabriel could return the favor. It was strange, the soft black strands shifting through his fingers. 

“Ah.” Michael said softly. “That’s...not good.” 

“What?” 

“Some of it got in my eye.” He stood up, pouring water furiously over his left eye.

 

“It’s okay.” Gabriel cupped Michael’s chin, brought his face level with his own. The eye was red, but it didn’t look too bad. “They wouldn’t let anyone use this stuff if it could blind you.” 

“I do not need a child’s reassurances.” Michael didn’t pull away though. If anything, he came closer. 

They used the conditioner in silence, wincing when the water grew colder. It wasn’t until they stepped out onto the tile that Gabriel recalled some other necessary supplies they’d neglected to buy. Towels, clothes and linens for the beds. 

He leaned against the sink with a groan. Fatigue swept over him and the thought of going out again made his head spin.

“There was a blanket over the back of the couch.” Michael touched his shoulder. “We can sleep beneath that for tonight.” 

The bed in the master bedroom proved big enough for both of them. Not the monstrosity Gabriel would have summoned for them if he could, but sufficent. The blanket scratched against their still drying skin and they had no pillows. At first they stayed on their own sides of the bed, but the night’s chill drove them closer. 

“This won’t work.” Michael grabbed at Gabriel’s hips and turned him onto his side. 

“Hey, mind the goods!” He squawked, then went silent as Michael spooned up behind him, sliding an arm under Gabriel’s head. Heat generated between them sluggishly. 

In the first breath of the world, they had stood together. A solid wall, a bright burning star. Matter had not yet come into it. They were light and intent. Love and sweet knowledge. 

They had come to this. Bound to flesh, bound to bone, wrapped tightly one around the other to keep from falling off the edge. Gabriel took in one deep, necessary breath after another until he fell asleep. 

In the morning he poured Lucky Charms into two bowls with too much milk. 

“Too sweet.” Michael determined, eating the actual cereal and letting Gabriel spoon out his milk logged marshmallows. 

“Should’ve known you’d have a boring palette. We’ll get you plain Cheerios or something while we’re out.” 

They checked on Lucifer, coaxing water down her lax throat. She had wet the bed and now that they were clean, the stench of her was more apparent. Her hair hung greasy around her pretty face. 

“We can bathe her when we come back.” Michael’s lips were a stiff line. 

Whatever was wrong with her, a bath wouldn’t fix. They had to do research, get food into her somehow. Gabriel mentally added cable, internet, phone and a computer to the things they would needed. Through them, they could probably piece together an IV drip and maybe an unscrupulous doctor. 

They needed to ditch the car too, before someone figured out it was hot. His head hurt. They had to drive further to find a mall. Gabriel had always liked malls. Modern consumption tickled the godly part of him that had always reveled in bacchanalia. Michael seemed less inclined toward them, annoyed at the encroachment into his space and the cacophony of too many voices. 

“Here.” Gabriel passed him a pair of jeans. “Try these on.” 

“Why?” 

“Because if they fit, we’ll buy three pairs and get the hell out of here that much faster.” 

Michael disappeared into the fitting room and returned with his forehead wrinkled. 

“Acceptable?” 

They clung to him like a second skin. 

“Yeah. Those work.” Gabriel tossed him a t-shirt. “This too.” 

“Why aren’t you trying anything on?” 

“This part of human life, I’ve actually indulged in.” He eyeballed the sizes and filled his cart. He stopped at the woman’s side of the store, staring at the waves of pastels. She wouldn’t need much for now. While Michael wrestled in and out of outfits that left a besotted sales girl's mouth wide open, Gabriel picked out nightgowns and bathrobes. Inspired, he went back over and got pajama bottoms and undershirts for both of them. 

“If you ever want to get a cup of coffee or something...” The sales girl rocked a little on her toes, giving Michael a thousand kilowatt smile despite the noticeable funk coming from his clothing. 

“No.” Michael walked around her and her face dropped. 

“Sorry about him.” He shot her a weak smile. “He’s...shy.” 

“Oh.” She flushed. “Okay. Um. Can I ring you up?” 

“You can’t act like that anymore.” Gabriel piled bags into Michael’s arms, taking a fraction of them for himself. 

“Like what?” 

“Like they’re just in your way. We’re not mightier than thou anymore. Gotta play nice.” 

“Why?” Michael juggled the bags with a frown. 

“Because we have to get along. We don’t have a damn choice. We are them. They are we. Capiche?” 

“I have a complete lack of capiche.” Michael said dryly and Gabriel had to stifle the nearly hysterical laugh that clawed up his throat. 

They bought sheet sets, pillows and blankets in the softest fabrics Gabriel could find. Michael tended toward the cooler colors, so they came home with a profusion of blues and greens. Michael carried Lucifer into the bathroom while Gabriel cleaned the mattress and flipped it for good measure before making the bed. He added the plastic sheets the cashier had suggested when he mentioned that his kid sister sometimes wet the bed. 

He smoothed down the crisp new fabric and left the room before Michael could tuck Lucifer between the new sheets. The master bed was harder to do, the fitted sheet kept escaping from one corner or another. Swearing, he finally got it all pinned down. The pillows resisted their stuffing into cases and the comforter seemed wedged impossibly into its bag. 

“Ha!” He fell back on the made bed in triumph. 

Only then did it occur to him that they hadn’t bought anything for the third bedroom. Michael had distracted him when he’d meant to start, bringing over a floor sample toaster with a frown and a question. 

“Nowhere for you to sleep.” Gabriel pointed out when Michael stepped into the room. 

“I sleep here.” Michael shrugged. 

“So I sleep...” 

“Here. Don’t be difficult just because you can be.” Michael stretched out beside him, hands running over the blanket. He’d done that a lot, taking in textures as if they were brand new. 

“I’m never difficult.” He countered weakly. 

“Teach me the toaster. I’m hungry.” 

The toaster scorned them. Burnt then underdone then somehow both. Gabriel slathered jelly and butter on all of it. 

“We’ll figure it out.” He said around blackened crumbs.

“We’ll need more bread.” Michael said grimly. 

There was a prepaid cell at the bottom of one of the bags and enough minutes to get Gabriel through every contact he could remember. None of them could fake three social security cards in short notice. Several of them called him some colorful names and a few others assured him that he didn’t need anything of the kind. They would take care of him. Lovely. 

Grasping at straws, he reached out to Jeremiah. 

“Hm.” The dragon rumbled over the phone. “Sounds to me, little god, like you need to make your amends with your tiny falcon.” 

“Fuck me. Really?” 

“I thought you were all brothers.” 

“You’d be surprised about how little that means, push come to shove. You know where he is?” 

“I’m glad you think my vision sees so far. I’m sure you can make an educated guess.” 

“....shit.” 

“Lovely talking to you.” Jeremiah hung up. 

“What?” Michael’s brow was drawn. 

“I don’t suppose you remember a Winchester phone number?” 

Michael did. Gabriel took in deep breath and let it out slow before he dialed. 

“Dean Winchester’s phone.” Castiel’s voice, whiskey deep and ragged came over the line. 

“Hello, Castiel. How’s things?” 

“Who is this?” 

“I’m hurt! You don’t recognize your loving brother’s voice?” 

There was a shuffle, a muffling of the phone then,   
“You’re dead.” 

“Wonder of wonders, miracles of miracles. Got back just in time to get drained like every other poor schmuck in the skies.”   
“I can’t be sure that it’s you.” 

“Hold on.” 

Gabriel hung up the phone, played with the settings and took a picture of himself. In the phone’s blurry light, the bags under his eyes were dark and the rakish grin looked pasted on. He sent it anyway. Castiel called back. 

“You could be a shapeshifter.” 

“I could be, but I’m not. Who would bother faking me after all this time?” 

Further muffled conversation. Michael had gone back to the toaster, adjusting the settings in meditative silence. 

“When you first met the Winchesters, you impressed Dean with a prank. What was it?” 

“Slow dancing alien. Classic.” 

Another pause. 

“Why are you calling?” 

“I can’t want to catch up with my all too mortal bro?” 

“Gabriel.” 

“Look, I need...” It hurt to even articulate. “I need your help, okay?” 

“Are you in trouble?” 

“No! No. I just...I need...we need identification. We’re not real people and that’s rapidly becoming a problem.” 

“Who is ‘we’?” 

“You’re not going to like it.” 

“There has been very little that I have liked in this last week. I’m sure I’ll survive it.” 

“Are you?” Gabriel hadn’t meant to sound so broken. “How do you know?” 

“Because we have no other choice. Because otherwise, who will reclaim Heaven?” 

“You want to storm back up there and shake that toad back out without a bit of grace inside you?” 

“If the Winchesters have taught me nothing else, it is that all men are as dangerous as gods if they have enough determination.”

“Well, I have more immediate concerns. I need three IDs. I can pay for them, generously if need be. I know they can always use ready cash.” 

“For you and...” 

“Turns out when you cage someone with Heaven's power and that power leeches out, poof! Lucifer is...comatose, I think. Michael. I’m not sure yet.” The toaster popped in the distance. “I don’t think it’s sunken in for him.” 

“I see.” Castiel said quite calmly. “Hold for a moment.” 

The phone shifted and Sam spoke next, 

“You’ve got a lot of balls.” He sounded slurred, exhausted and beaten down. Gabriel could sympathize. “Why the fuck would we help those two douchebags?” 

“I can pay. They’re human now. Harmless.” 

“You don’t need grace to cause havoc.” Sam growled. “Listen, if it was just you...I’d do it. You’re an asshole, but in the end...well. But you can’t imagine...what he did to me. The things...he broke me. And what that wasn’t enough, he ground the shards that were left to dust. So don’t ask me to help him. Don’t ask me that.” 

“Lucifer is in a coma. I don’t know how to...I’m not her biggest fan either, okay? She’s a vicious, sadistic son of a bitch and if she wasn’t my sister, I would have killed her six times over. But she is, Sam. She’s my family and I can’t...I can’t sit here and let her die because I can’t figure out how to fake a few pieces of ID. You of all people should understand that.” 

“Me of all people? Who tried to convince me to let Dean die? To let go? And Dean helped save the world. Let her go, Gabriel. Better for everyone.” 

The phone clicked off and he dropped it to the table. Sam wasn’t wrong and the knowledge broke over Gabriel all over again. Lucifer, the betrayer, Lucifer, the knife in his gut, Lucifer, beloved and monstrous. 

The phone rang. 

“There is such a thing as too many second chances.” Castiel began as if there had been no interruption in their conversation. “But I have been fortunate to receive many. It would be hypocritical of me not to provide one for you.“

“Really?” Gabriel dropped his head in relief. “You’re...unique, Castiel. Makes me kind of proud of you.” 

“Does it?” Castiel sounded faintly pleased and more than a little confused. “I’ll need your address.” 

It was a risk. Castiel would doubtless share it with Dean and Sam, both of whom were capable of murder. Gabriel took the gamble. Maybe he’d buy a gun. Just in case. Of course, he’d probably have to wait for the identification to get his hands on one. 

Damnit. 

Smoke billowed out of the kitchen, but Michael emerged with a smug smirk and a plate of browned toast.   
“Good job.” Gabriel mumbled into the palms of his hands. “With Dad as my witness, we’ll never go hungry again.”


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel spread the contents of Castiel’s package across the table like a demented game of blackjack. It looked like Dean had wound up helping after all. Unless the names had been Castiel’s idea. Gabriel couldn’t quite believe that. 

“Why is her name different than ours?” Michael picked up the licenses, pictures doctored from blurry camera phone shots. Someone had photoshopped Lucifer’s eyes open and painted them an eerie blue. Gabriel tried not to look at it too hard. 

“We can just say that she used to be married or something. Sort of the least of our problems.”

They ditched the car that afternoon, a weight off Gabriel’s mind. After leaving it in a mall parking lot two towns over, Michael rode the bus for the first time. He sat by the window and watched the scenery blur by, then fell asleep with his head on Gabriel’s shoulder. The most uneventful first they’d had yet, even with the stiff neck afterwards. 

“What should we get?” Gabriel gestured at the used car lot. He didn’t really expect an answer, thrown off kilter when Michael said wistfully,  
“Something fast.” 

The dealer looked nervous, hands flitting this way and that. Gabriel knew how to lean on nervous men. They left the lot with a sporty little compact car. When they drove it off the lot, Gabriel rolled down the windows and took the long way home. Michael’s hand drifted out the window, his fingers caressing the air and something that might’ve been serenity crossing over his face. 

While Michael tended Lucifer, Gabriel used his new credit card to set up cable, internet and landline. The installers would take a day or two, but in the meantime, they suggested he try the public library for internet. 

“Headed to the library, you want anything?” 

Nothing about how Michael wound up in the car suggested that he cared about the destination. Yet, Gabriel had the distinct feeling that Michael might actually be excited at the prospect. It just figured. 

“You’re going to be such a nerd.” He mumbled, heading back to town. 

“Am I?” Michael tilted his head. 

“Yes. The valedictorian kind. Not the fun Comic Con kind.” 

The librarian was a neatly dressed young man with a mustache Gabriel hoped was ironic. 

“How can I check out books?” Michael asked before Gabriel could get a word out. 

“You’ll need a card. You apply at the front desk.” 

Michael turned and stalked back toward the front. 

“I just need to use a computer.” Gabriel smiled as charmingly as he knew how. “Internet.” 

“No problem.” The librarian smiled right back, eyelashes falling a little coyly. “Your friend ok?” 

“Just a bad day.” A bad lifetime. Several lifetimes. 

Settled at a terminal, Gabriel started his search. The invention of computers had fascinated him and greased the wheels of his vengeance business. He might not have mastered bathing, but Google was his bitch. 

When he emerged from his digital vortex, Michael had settled beside him. He was reading a Cooking for Dummies book. 

“Seriously?” 

“Howard recommended it.” 

“Howard?” 

“Call me Howie, really.” Said the librarian, a faint flush rising on his cheeks. 

They hauled two ‘I <3 my Library’ tote bags full of books into the car, along with a handful of DVDs for Gabriel. Onward to the electronics store where Gabriel splurged on a laptop, ridiculous television with matching sound system and a few phone handsets. 

“We’re going to figure this out.” He realized on the way home, holding the delivary slip for the television. “This is actually...it’s going to be ok.” 

“That’s probably an over optimistic assessment. “ Michael turned his face to the wind. “But I suppose hope isn’t completely stupid in light of the situation.” 

“Thank you, Mary Sunshine.” 

“Kent.” Michael corrected. “Michael and Gabriel Kent. Alexis Luthor. We should remember them.” 

“I’lI remember. Trust me.” 

At least Dean had cast them in the role of the hero. That had to mean something. 

The doctor Gabriel found showed up the next day with a truck full of equipment and a disconcertingly lazy eye that wandered without permission during their conversation. 

“She’s not in a coma. You say she recently had a traumatic experience?” 

“Yeah.” He didn’t elaborate and the silence stretched. 

“Oh. Well.” The doctor coughed. “My guess is she’s dealing with whatever she went through by retreating into a catatonic state. I’ve given her a dose of benzodiazepine which should start helping within the hour. I would highly recommend that she be moved to a psychiatric treatment center.” 

“No.” Michael said stiffly, fingers steepled together. 

“Ah. Well. Then you should consider bringing in a qualified psychotherapist.” 

“We’ll do that.” Gabriel said over whatever protest Michael might’ve voice. “Thank you, doctor.” 

He stayed another two hours, monitoring Lucifer’s condition and setting up a hospital bed complete with deceptively benign looking restraints. Nothing happened. Lucifer didn’t stir. Even when the doctor catheterized her. 

“I don’t feel qualified to start her on anti-psychotics.” The man’s eye careened to the right. “But at least now she’ll be getting some nourishment through the IV.” 

They didn’t hire a psychiatrist. They hired a day nurse instead, a square jawed woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Bowler and responded to nothing else. Mrs. Bowler accepted the explanation of their dear sister in a permanent vegetative state. 

“It’s good you having her home.” She announced on her first day. “Sometimes they can hear you, you know? They sort of know where they are. Know their loved ones are keeping them close.” 

“Yes.” Michael smiled wanly. “That’s what I told Gabriel. He wanted to put her in a hospital.” 

Mrs. Bowler chose a favorite to dote on when she came by. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t Gabriel. Instead, she aided Michael in his burgeoning cooking attempts and gave him sound advice like ‘say please and thank you or I’ll eat these cookies myself’. 

The problem was there was now...no problem. Lucifer was taken care of. They were legal citizens with enough money to live off of for a good long while. 

Gabriel rapidly became bored. 

“Ugh.” He flopped boneless onto the couch, head in Michael’s lap. 

“We should go running.” Michael twitched errant strands of hair out of Gabriel’s face. “These bodies will quickly go to fat if we don’t exercise them.” 

“No way.” 

Michael turned back to his book. Gabriel fidgeted. 

“Ok, fine.” 

They ran alongside the road, Michael in long easy strides and Gabriel gasping for air. The road bent into a public park after a mile or so. They rested on a park bench. 

“I’m going to die.” Gabriel groaned. 

“You’re just not used to it.” Michael picked at a hangnail with a frown. “You’ll get better.”

“Are you crazy? I’m never doing this again.” 

It was possible Michael was crazy, actually. Gabriel hadn’t given it any real thought. Surely a few thousand years locked in a cage with his equally mad sister and years of sequestered leadership before that were enough to drive anyone a little mad. Maybe it was a quiet kind of madness though. The kind that seeped through Michael’s steady silences and even breathing like chemicals leaching into groundwater.  
They went on running, of course. Each morning, they’d wake up, go for a run and come back to their bowls of cereal. They’d shower together, still preferring the shared act of grooming over any human notion of privacy. The morning they could usually whittle away with a book or television or the internet, but lunchtime restlessness drove them to the car and out into the world. 

“Did you just see that?” Gabrial asked _sotto voce_ one afternoon. 

“See what?” Michael stared at two containers of Pringles with the kind of concentration generally reserved for life and death situations. 

“That guy totally stole a half dozen magazines.” Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “And a beer.” 

The old instincts gnawed at him and before he could think it through, he stomped up to the guy. 

“Hey, jackass. You gonna pay for that stuff?” 

“What stuff?” The guy took a step back, wild eyed. 

“The magazines you stuffed in your jacket and the beer in your back pocket.” 

Lucky for Gabriel the guy took off running instead of taking a swing. Gabriel grinned feral and free, before charging after him. Chased him halfway down the street, before tripping him up and sitting on him. He stayed there until the cops showed, blinking sleepily at him. 

“You can’t just tackle people.” A cop with a smile that belied her tone said. “I mean, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

“Nah. I knew what I was doing.” He lied. 

“Uh huh. What, you do your twenty in the city then retire out here?” 

Gabriel blinked. 

“Um. Not the city. But yeah.” 

“Thought so. Once in the force, you know?” She handed over her card. “If you’re bored, I got an opening. Send me a resume."

“You know, I just might.” He tucked the card away. 

Michael opened the car door for him. 

“That was stupid.” He crunched into his Pringles. Sour Cream and Onion apparently.

“You know, it’s really your pride in me that I remember most.” He threw the car into reverse with more vehemence than was strictly required.  
“Hmm.” Michael ate another chip, crumbs falling unitdly in his lap. That somehow felt like a minor victory. 

Gabriel didn’t tell him about the female cop. Bernadette, who took down his name and reiterated the job offer. Whose card burned in his pocket. He quietly checked books out of the library and began an intensive web search, his resolve growing with each fact and nugget of knowledge. He was good at faking things, but he’d never done it for long. He’d never become what he pretended to be.  
He typed up a resume and Howie the librarian proofread it for him. 

“You were a cop?” He asked, all wide eyes and red bitten lips. If it wasn’t for the mustache, Gabriel might actually have considered it. He hadn’t tried intimacy since his resurrection. Hadn’t been interested, really. 

“For a long time.” He took the marked up paper back. “Thanks for this.” 

It wasn’t hard to fake two or three voices for Bernie when she called his references (Albuquerque in the first few years than Silver City for the rest, a place he’d spent time recently enough to answer questions and far enough away that no one in the local sleepy force would know anyone). 

“We do things a little different around here.” She told him when she called with the solid job offer. 

“That’s fine. I’ve been gone a few years. Probably forgot half of what I knew.” 

And that was enough. Gabriel Kent, officer of the goddamn law. 

“Why?” Michael asked when Gabriel told him. 

“Because I need something to do. I’m going crazy here.” 

The job wasn’t all that exciting most of the time. He learned how to use the coffee maker and ingratiated himself with Shannon, the precinct's administrative assistant, by bringing her a mug every morning. There were five other officers, one of them working part time, crammed into a cubicle farm in what used to be the lobby of a bank. Bernie lead them from the manager’s office in the back. 

“We’ve got a domestic on P.” Bernie would call out through the open door. “Gabe, Jamie get on it.” 

Or Gabriel would set up a speed trap on one of the open roads and pull over addled tourists holding their GPS out in silent supplication.  
Or he would follow up calls to empty houses with alarms silently screaming. Usually it was a garbage can flung against the door by the wind or an animal. 

Or he corralled a stray dog into the back seat, firmly ignoring its wide brown eyes and dirty muzzle. He certainly never named one and cleaned it up in the crappy staff bathroom. 

“What’s that?” Michael asked when Gabriel brought the stray home. 

“It’s Krypto. We require him for our secret identity.” 

Michael narrowed his eyes, then knelt down on the floor. Krypto trotted across the floor, sniffing at Michael’s bunched fingers. 

“Sit.” Michael said firmly. 

Krypto cocked his head to the side. It was unsettlingly familiar. 

“You can’t just use words on a dog. They need hand signs-” 

Krypto sat, tail wagging. 

“Oh, of course.” Gabriel threw up his hands. “Of course.” 

Some kind of German Shepard mix, Krypto spent most of his time trying to get Gabriel and Michael in the same room. As soon as Gabriel settled grumpily next to Michael on the couch, the dog would let out a self-righteous sigh and lie down in attitude of slavish worship at Michael’s feet. 

“I saved your life.” Gabriel would remind him. “You should like me best.” 

“He can’t talk.” Michael rolled his eyes. 

“You talk to him.” 

“Those are commands. He just understands the tone of voice.” 

Krypto huffed out another sigh and rolled over to cover Michael’s bare toes. 

So that was Gabriel’s life. Routine small town cop work, an ungrateful herding dog, a snarky brother and a comatose sister. He didn’t mind it nearly as much as he thought he would. It didn’t occur to him to ask Michael how the world was treating him. He knew it had to be an agony for Michael, every day a grating reminder of what had been lost. Gabriel walked on eggshells, never asked Michael how he spent the days while he was away. Frankly, he was afraid of what the answer might be. 

“Pretty necklace.” Gabriel commented absently, three months into his new job. Shannon beamed at him. 

“Thanks! I was talking to the Park Guru and he said I should do something nice for myself. I saw it in the window of the Smithy and couldn’t pass it up.” 

“Park Guru? What is that?” 

“Not what. Who.” Bernie leaned around the doorway. “I thought he was homeless for awhile, but he looks well taken care of. Must be some kind of loony though.” 

“He’s not crazy!” Shannon put a hand to her necklace as if Bernie had threatened to rip it away. 

“He’s totally crazy.” Jamie pushed in, handing around a fresh round of coffee. “But harmless, I think.” 

“Why do they call him the Park Guru?” Gabriel wrapped his hands around the hot cup. Decaf, unfortunately. He’d learned the he didn’t get on with caffeine. 

“He just sits on this bench during the day. Gets there around ten, leaves around four.” Jamie sipped from her ridiculous mega dose of espresso. “Watches the lake. But if you sit down next to him and start talking, he talks back.” 

“He gives the best advice.” Shannon said, a little breathlessly. “My sister-in-law had that miscarriage and he just let her cry all over him, gave her a tissue and told her that no one really knows why terrible things happen. ‘All you can do is let it make you stronger’. Isn’t that smart?”  
“Yeah, regular Deepak Chopra. So what? People just bring him their problems?” 

“Its the damndest thing.” Bernie shrugged. “You sort of just want to. He’s got that kind of face.” 

“Not his face. He looks like he sucked on a sour lemon. It’s something else.” Jamie shook her head. “Never can put my finger on it.” 

“Uh huh.” Gabriel added another sugar to his cup. 

“He’s got a dog now!” Shannon said eagerly. “I asked him its name, but he won’t say.” 

Carefully, Gabriel set down the coffee. Hot liquid burned in a way he didn’t appreciate and he'd learned that dramatic moments weren't worth the scalding of slamming it against the filing cabinet. 

“What kind of dog?” 

“Dunno. Some kind of German Shepard mix?” 

“Son of a motherfucking bitch.” He swore. 

“Dollar for the swear jar!” Shannon chimed. 

“You need a break?” Bernie eyed him astutely. 

“Damn right I do.”  
“Two dollars!” 

He stuffed the money into the jar on the way out. It had already been filled to the brim after Bernie dropped a casebook on her foot last week. The park wasn’t far, so he walked. It helped blow off some of the initial surprise and anger. 

The more he thought about it, the less upset he was. There was something painfully charming about it. When he spotted the familiar dark head peeking over the top of the hand hewn bench, the last of his rage burned away. This was how Michael was making his peace. 

Krypto saw him first, bounding away to dance around Gabriel’s feet and true to form, herd him back to the bench. He slid in beside Michael. It was a good spot. The lake rippled in front of them, a family of ducks nesting along the shore. 

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned.” He mumbled.  
“I’m not Father.” Michael didn’t look at him. 

“But you’re taking their confession.” 

“No. I’m just...listening. They want to talk, Gabriel. They have so much pain inside of them.” He let out a soft breath. “And so much good. I wish I had...well. This. I can do this.” 

“Yeah.” Gabriel reached across the bench, took Michael’s hand in his. His fingers were cold. “But you can do it with gloves tomorrow.” 

“I forgot them.” 

It’s so simple, but there it was in a nutshell. The great Michael. Giving advice to unimportant people with cold hands because he forgot his gloves. Gabriel had never loved his brother more than in that moment. 

They would figure this out. He set his head on Michael’s shoulder and smiled when Michael’s arm automatically went around his shoulders. Maybe Lucifer would never wake. Maybe she would and he wasn’t sure which option was worse. Maybe the world would end or the Winchester would show up on their doorstep to slay them. They’d be entitled too. 

Maybe nothing would happen. Maybe they could have this fragile mortal life. Michael doling out advice and finding other ways to apologize to a humanity that didn’t know how it had been wronged. Gabriel could do his own penance in arresting shoplifters and locking away abusive spouses. Lucifer could find her peace in eternal sleep. They could find a way to be happy in this tiny moment. 

The ducks took flight, startled at some unheard hunter. Their wings spread wide and Gabriel closed his eyes against the sight. Earthbound, fragile, forgotten by God, two archangels sat on a bench. The beginning of a bad joke or the end of a good one.


End file.
